Of Conquerors and Barbarians
by Risknight
Summary: He is determined to conquer the Wild lands. She is determined to stop him. Who will prevail when a barbarian priestess squraes off against a ruthless conqueror?


**This one was actually inspired by my 9 year old. He wanted to know why Sheldor the Conqueror would help a Barbarian Queen in Age of Conan. In his view, those two types would not get along. Before long, this story was buzzing around in my head.**

* * *

He looked around the battle field, pleased with his victory. With each campaign, his legend grew. With each captured village, his fame had increased. He strode back to the encampment, watching as his lieutenant approached.

"Sire, we lost 34 men, 8 steeds and 4 slaves. We killed all but two of their men. They are being questioned now. We captured 15 horses, 11 slaves and a priestess."

Sheldon paused. "A priestess? Here in this godforsaken wild?"

The lieutenant nodded. "Yes, sir. Although she is unlike any priestess I have ever seen. She is a fighter."

Sheldon smirked. "Priestesses do not fight."

The lieutenant rubbed a large welt on his cheek. "Believe me, sir. This one does."

He was intrigued, despite his weariness. "Where have you placed her?"

"She is sequestered in your mother's tent. Lady Mary intends to try to convert her."

Sheldon felt irritated at his lieutenant's words. His mother was convinced his victories were proof her god favored him. In actuality, it was careful and meticulous planning. "Move her to my tent. I will decide what to do with this priestess after I bathe."

He relaxed in the iron tub as two slaves poured more hot water over him. He heard the tent flaps draw back and the sounds of scuffling feet. He opened his eyes at the sound of pounding flesh. The cries of pain drew him to his feet. He swept back the curtain that separated his bathing tub from the rest of the tent.

Sheldon wasn't positive which emotion he was more inclined to express. Anger that four experienced guards seemed unable to control one small woman, or admiration that this slip of a girl had managed to not only resist, but was actually overpowering them. She had one on the ground, clutching his manhood. A second was beside the table bleeding profusely from the nose. The third had hands on her arms, and the fourth was trying to grab her legs. She threw her head back and cracked the soldier behind her in the jaw. Her left foot lashed out and caught the other under the chin, knocking him to his knees. She jerked her hands free, grabbed the fourth one's head and brought it down sharply into her raised knee. He dropped to her feet, unconscious.

Sheldon watched for another moment as she grabbed the dirk from the table and turned. Her arm drew back to deliver the blow and he stepped up behind her. He wrenched the weapon away and used her surprise to spin her across the room.

She stumbled toward the bed and he pounced. In a mere blink of her eyes he was pinning her down, using the ties from the drapes to secure her hands to the posts. She snarled up at him and bucked her body. He was amazed at her determination and strength, but he kept his face impassive.

He rose up and straddled her waist. Fury flared in her eyes. The fire in her eyes made his body react. His manhood twitched and began to grow, his length soon laying hard and heavy on her stomach. He was about to get up when she did something that he considered a challenge. She dragged her eyes from the top of his head as far down his body as she could see. Her eyes took in every inch of his naked form. Then she looked him in the eye and spit.

Sheldon growled. How dare she! He was a conqueror! She was nothing more than a feeble woman! A slave now! His eyes narrowed and he leaned down over her. He could almost feel the flames of battle emanating from her.

"You will regret that, heathen. I will break you."

She threw her head forward and snapped her teeth at his neck, missing by a scant half inch when he jerked back. He rolled off the bed, knowing that if he didn't, he would kill her for her audacity. His gaze roamed down her body. Outwardly he looked at her insultingly. Inwardly, he could not deny the passion he felt. His loins ached for release.

He called for more guards and had them remove the injured soldiers. He moved back to the tub and settled back in. He left the curtain open, knowing she could see him. The slaves rushed forward to add more hot water. He grabbed one and pulled her into the tub with him. He settled her over his hips and pushed aside her skirts. He surged upward, his mind on the infuriating prisoner. The slave girl moved over him and it wasn't long before he found his release, knowing _she_ was right across the room.

When he glanced over, it was to see her watching him coldly. Anger flared again at her dispassionate gaze. How could this …this _nobody_ break past his iron control and arouse him so?! And then, to look at him as if he was nothing! He rose from the tub and ignored the robe held out to him. He walked across the room and dressed casually. Then, without a single glance, he walked from the tent. He needed to get a handle on his emotions. He needed a clear, calm mind to deal with this woman. He suspected she wanted him emotional, off kilter. An upset opponent was an easily manipulated opponent.

"Son?"

He looked to his mother as she approached. She averted her eyes from the cart bearing away the bleeding soldier. "Mother, you should be resting."

She looked up and smiled softly. "And miss the chance to see the glory of our God move through you across the land?"

Sheldon suppressed a sigh at her delusion. "The battle was short, but successful," he said.

She nodded. "Sheldon, I have a question. Why have you removed the priestess? I wish to talk with her. To make her see the error of her ways. To let her know the one true God forgives if she repents from her evil ways."

He gestured to the cart. "Mother, she injured two of my best, in only a moment. It was not safe."

Lady Mary's eyes went wide. "So she is dead then."

Sheldon did not reply, allowing her to think so. After all, the minx would be dead by morning. After he had taught her respect. He leaned over and kissed his mother's cheek. "Sleep, Mother. Tomorrow we journey further."

Lady Mary turned to leave. Sheldon ignored the look from his mother's handmaiden. She had made it perfectly obvious she would welcome his attentions, but he had no intention of going in that direction. Being of high birth, she would expect marriage.

He turned and re-entered his tent. He looked to the bed and froze.

* * *

She rubbed her wrist gently to relieve the ache. She watched the sentries move along the edge of the firelight, and waited until they were out of earshot before she silently crept toward the tree line. Once in the shadow of the trees, she felt safer. She moved quicker now, giving over to the feel of the forest. She faintly heard the call of escape, but she was far from the camp now. She sent out her other senses to guide her as she ran. Another conqueror had come to the wild lands. She must reach the temple and ask the old Gods for protection.

* * *

He sat on his steed and looked out over the ravine. His eyes bore into hers. Even from this distance, he was sure he could see her smile. For eight days he had been consumed with anger. She had not only escaped ties he, himself, had bound her with, but she had killed 8 soldiers, spilled all their water upon the ground, and released the horses over the previous days. Only a handful of their steeds had been recaptured. Now, she leaned casually against the stump of a large elm. The tree lay in the bottom of the ravine, along with the remains of the bridge.

"Do you think to stop me with this little stunt?" he called out.

She smiled wider and blew him a kiss. Then she turned and disappeared into the trees. Sheldon's grip tightened on his sword hilt until his knuckles popped. He turned and made his way through the battalion. He would find another way to cross. And when he caught her, he would kill her personally. Slowly.

* * *

It took his scouts two days to find a spot to cross the river. It wasn't ideal, because the river was deep enough to brush the horse's belly. Those walking would be drenched. He was watching the wagons cross when the attack began.

From the trees, a volley of obsidian-tipped arrows rained down. In the span of a heartbeat three soldiers floated down river, arrows protruding from their bodies. He hurriedly called his archers forward and sent a round of arrows into the trees. He called his men back to the tree line and searched the area across the river closely. He was about to rally them to the edge for one last volley when a flaming arrow soared through the air and struck one of the wagons. He watched with rage and horror as the wagon containing his mother's tent went up in flames. Two slaves ran forward and unhitched the horses, and pulled them free. A second arrow struck the wagon containing his own tent. Sheldon clenched his fists tightly.

"This land will not bow to you!"

Sheldon's head whipped around to see that heathen of the wilds standing beside a boulder. She carried a bow in one hand, and his rage almost consumed him. She pointed the bow at him and smiled. "This forest will be your death, Sheldon of Darmanica. Conquer the rest of the world if you will. But know that if you step inside these trees, you have forfeited your soul."

He dismounted and strode fearlessly to the edge of the river. "I will break you. I would have killed you quick after you learned some humility. But now, I will make you my slave. I will make you beg me for death. I will cull your spirit in the most painful and humiliating way possible."

She laughed and notched an arrow. A young boy ran out of the trees to light the tip. She drew back on the bow and set it straight into the third and final wagon. "I am Pendulum, daughter of wind and fire. The guardian of this forest. I am the lover of Chaos, the handmaiden of the darkest lords of the Nether. You cannot tame that which you cannot hold. You cannot defeat that with you cannot tame. If you do not turn back, all the hellhounds and winged furies of the world will cry out for your flesh and blood. I shall see that they feast well. You have been warned." She melted back into the shadows and just before she disappeared, he could have sworn her eyes shone like an emerald flame.

* * *

He paced around the small campfire, anger rolling of him. A noise to the left drew his attention and his sword. He re-sheathed it, but did not relax when he saw who it was. "Why are you here, Lady Fowler?"

His mother's handmaiden stepped into the circle of light. "You are vexed, my lord. I can help you."

He lifted one eyebrow and smirked. "You seek to make me an offer?"

She sidled up to him. Her small left hand pressed against his chest lightly. "Would you be open to an offer?"

He dipped his head a bit and she licked her lips, shrewd confidence in her eyes. "And what would you receive in exchange for your…assets?"

She slid her other hand along his side. "You need a strong woman who can take care of all those things that distract you from your conquering. I can give you children to carry on your legacy. Why should you concern yourself with the day to day problems like meals, supplies, ordinary disputes? You should be free to concentrate on expanding your territory."

"Freedom through a shackle?" Sheldon mused sardonically. He leaned down until their breath intermingled. "If you wish to be rid of your virginity, you have come to the right place. But I have no desire to marry, Lady Fowler. I will not tie myself to any woman. Especially not one so willing to trade her sex for a bit of power."

Lady Fowler gasped and jerked back. "You have no honor!" she sneered.

He laughed loudly. "Neither do you. But we play the parts rather well."

She stormed away quickly, disappearing into the darkness. He sat on a stump by the fire and turned his mind to the problem at hand. His future slave. She was like a ghost. He had caught mere glimpses of her these last four days. His company of men was vexed at all turns. Waters were spilled. Food disappeared. Weapons were broken or thrown into the river.

His men's morale was low. Added to that was his mother's adamant proclamations that her God was angry. She was convinced that because she had not been allowed to convert the heathen, God was punishing them. He rose from the stump and paced back and forth in front of the fire. He needed to resume control of the situation quickly. Killing the priestess had become a moot point. No, his men needed to see her subjugated. They needed to see her spirit broken, and he needed them to see him do it. Otherwise, dissension would spread. His leadership was beginning to be questioned, and that was something he would not allow!

* * *

She stood in the center of the ring of fire and drew the heat inside her. She felt the fiery whisper of the old Gods wrap around her lovingly. They were of the beginning. They had formed the world and breathed the heat of life into it. She focused her mind on the flames and drew solace from them.

The intruder was coming. He was strong and fearless. He sought to subjugate the world and make it his own. The old Gods would never allow that. They had charged her with his destruction. She knew it would be hers as well. She was willing. Her life was theirs to demand. She just needed the strength to succeed.

She called forth the furies and the hellfires. She drew their power and strength inside her and renewed her allegiance to the old ways. She felt their approval and confidence. The flames were absorbed, lick by lick, into her skin. When she had taken in the last one, she opened her eyes. They glowed a deep red and with every breath, ashes swirled from between her lips.

She was ready. Soon they would meet one last time. Neither would walk away.

* * *

Sheldon was looking over some maps when a clamor went up outside the tent. He grabbed his sword and stepped outside. A half dozen guards dragged a wizened old man forward. He looked too frail to even stand on his own.

"Sir! We found him creeping through the camp," one of the guards said loudly.

Sheldon looked at the animal skins and dirt with disgust. "Where do you come from, old man?"

The man cackled merrily. He held out his hand and showed Sheldon the knife hilt he carried. Sheldon growled, recognizing it as the one the witch had used on his guards. The blade was broken off cleanly. The man pointed toward a small ridge in the distance. "She comes at dawn. Pray now so you can die with peace."

Sheldon growled and grabbed the old man's neck. "You think I fear that woman?!" he sneered. "I will make her my slave. I will break her spirit. She will beg for my touch. She will pray only to me. I will make her love me!" he promised fiercely. "She will bow before me."

The old man cackled again. "We are the chosen of the ancient ones. We do not kneel to any man." He reached under his animal skins and drew forth the missing blade. Before anyone could stop him, he had slit his own throat.

Hot blood splashed on Sheldon's tunic and he threw the old man's body to the ground. For a moment he felt uncertain. How do you defeat an enemy that prefers death to being ruled? He shook his head quickly. No! He just needed to break the witch, and the people of this land would bow.

* * *

The sun turned the sky crimson as it dispelled the dark of the night. Sheldon stood tall in the center of the field, his entire army at his back. She stood alone on the ridge, her hair blowing in the breeze. He felt a shiver steal up his spine. Just the chill in the air, he told himself.

He watched with reluctant admiration as she approached. She had to know she could not win. One woman all alone against an army of thousands? She was obviously suicidal. He smirked and stepped out to meet her. His men would watch as he eliminate the woman who had perturbed them so with her clandestine antics.

"Have you come to surrender?" he mocked as they drew within a few yards of one another.

"Vect di bashla vee," she said loud enough to be heard by everyone.

A sudden roar and cries of alarm stunned Sheldon for a heartbeat. Ten foot wide flames erupted in a large circle around them. He watched, mouth open, as he was cut off from his men. He looked back at the priestess who was watching him coldly.

"You should have turned back," she said calmly. "I gave you fair warning that this land would be your death."

Sheldon drew his sword and snarled at her. "Your imaginary gods do not scare me. I am destined to conquer the world. Do you really think one small woman will stop that?"

She drew her own sword, a slender blade only half the size of his. She ran one hand along it's length and it began to glow as if it had just been pulled from a blacksmith's fire. "That is your downfall," she told him calmly. "You disregard the Gods and place yourself above the old ways." She looked up at him with eyes that burned red hot in the morning light. "Come, conqueror. Meet your fate."

With a growl he moved quickly to attack. The army watched in awe and fear as the swords clashed together. Sparks flew about the combatants. Sheldon was larger and used his greater mass to his advantage. The priestess was quicker though, and able to dodge and parry.

He could feel the heat from her blade every time the weapons clanged together. She was light on her feet, and her body moved and bent in ways he was not accustomed to contending against. Several times she had managed to sneak in under his arms to score a hit. Nothing that would actually handicap him, but enough to aggravate him. He had yet to even scratch her!

He could feel himself losing focus, and growing more and more angry. She was just a woman! He had battled men of considerable skill and size and never broke a sweat! He lunged forward to force her closer to the circle of fire and she spun on one foot and darted under his arms. Her blade slid across his thigh and he hissed in pain.

She drew in a ragged breath and hopped back a few feet. He was better than she had hoped. He bled from several small cuts, but he didn't appear to notice. The slash across his thigh made him limp slightly as he turned to face her again.

"Last chance," he snarled. "Submit and I will kill you quickly. Resist and I will make your suffering last weeks before I skin you alive."

She straightened up, her blade held tightly in one hand. "I would rather die a thousand times at the hands of hell's demons than submit to a coward."

Fury overrode his mind and he lunged forward, sword aimed for her heart. She did not dart away this time.

* * *

Sheldon looked down into her eyes as the fires that made them glow slowly died. Her lips curved up slightly and he felt her reach up to grip his wrist.

"The Gods call me forth," she whispered with her last breath.

Sheldon went to his knees and eased her onto the ground. The ring of fire slowly died down and his men surged forward. Before they could reach him he tilted to the side and fell down beside her. He stared at the sky and drew in a rattling breath. He could taste blood on his tongue. He looked down his body at the sword hilt sticking out of his chest.

He barely heard his mother's screams for a healer. Above him the sky turned from a light pink to a soft blue. He tried to wet his lips, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Darkness edged around his vision and he turned his head to look at the priestess. He had a sudden feeling of regret, as if this wasn't the way it was supposed to be, before drawing his last breath.

* * *

The Gods welcomed the spirit of their champion and wrapped her in their warmth. Once she was cocooned and resting, they drew to them the warrior. They soothed his spirit and placed it nearby. Maybe in their next lives things would be different.


End file.
